Chasing Happy
by FireboltPhoenix
Summary: The war is over and Voldemort is dead. All Harry wants is a normal life. But things are never normal if you're Harry Potter. AU. M. HP/SS. RL/SB


_A/N: __My latest story. The other two will be updated soon; I just have a complete fascination with Harry/Severus stories at the moment. Set at what will be the beginning of 7__th__ year, but it ignores OotP, HBP and DH. Parts of those books such as Horcruxes will be included, but Dumbledore, Sirius and Severus are still alive. Will be slash, and possible mpreg; if this makes you queasy, please don't read any further. Chapter titles are taken from various songs. Cookies and a one-shot of your choice for the first person to guess the song each chapter ;). Love feedback; constructive criticism is welcome. Ooh, I don't know if 'sculling drinks' is the same in Britain as it is in Australia, but it basically means drinking really fast. :) Rated M._

_**Chasing Happy:**_

Chapter One: Feel the Chemicals Kicking In:

* * *

The celebrations at 12 Grimmauld Place had been happening for some time now, and Harry Potter wanted nothing more than to leave. Sure, Lord Voldemort was dead and that was _certainly_ worth celebrating, but the Minister of Magic had just declared May 2nd as the annual _Harry Potter Day_, and Harry just wanted to the floor to swallow him up.

It was by far the most rambunctious party that Grimmauld Place had accommodated in years. Since being cleared by the Wizengamot the year before, Sirius Black had been hosting rather wild parties on a monthly basis. Harry could understand why; if he'd been locked up in Azkaban prison for twelve years and then forced to hide for the following three, Harry was sure that he would want to blow off some steam too.

Grimmauld Place had undergone a transformation once Sirius had been cleared. While it was still dark and moody; it was clean, sophisticated and modern, and it displayed the prevalence of the Black name completely. It shone especially bright for this night, and the Grand Ballroom had been magically enlarged to fit over four hundred guests – namely Order of the Phoenix members, their families, Ministry of Magic staff and special guests, as well as many Hogwarts students and professors.

With a sigh, Harry downed the glass of Firewhisky in his hand, (he wasn't seventeen for just over a month, but he was sure that no one would begrudge him a drink or two _tonight), _and revelled in the burn. It was his third for the evening (okay, a drink or three), and he was feeling slightly tipsy. Firewhisky was a lot stronger than Butterbeer. Another one, and he'd probably be drunk enough to enjoy himself.

He raised his head and nodded at the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt; silently thanking him for not requesting Harry's presence up on the platform. Harry could feel the guests nearest him staring at him rather than listening to Shacklebolt. He snorted in amusement, resumed his drinking and let his mind wander…

* * *

It had been a month since the end of the "Final Battle" as it was now coined, which had taken place on the grounds of Hogwarts at the end of his sixth year. Theodore Nott had discovered a pair of Vanishing Cabinets, between Hogwarts and Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley, and had used them to allow Voldemort and his Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Hogwarts herself had sealed all of the students under fifteen into their dormitories, so the loss of life, thankfully, wasn't what it may have been.

But still, and here Harry sighed, they had lost lives. Auror Nymphadora Tonks, who had become a close friend, and countless other Aurors; Padma Patil; Lavender Brown; Percy Weasley; Hannah Abbot and Terry Boot had all been killed. Nott himself, as well as Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle had been killed by their own Death Eater pals, (surprisingly Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and the Greengrass sisters had been on the side of the Light, and had survived); and Neville had had the pleasure of being the one to cast the curse that killed Bellatrix Lestrange.  
It could have been much worse, Harry reasoned with himself, and yet he couldn't help but succumb to the internal battle that was going on inside his mind and his heart. _If only…_ If only he had stopped Voldemort a little bit earlier… a few more lives may have been spared.

He hadn't needed to cast the killing curse on Voldemort. After spending most of his sixth year locating and destroying Horcruxes with both Professors Dumbledore and Snape; and taking private defence lessons with the latter, Harry had known that Voldemort was very mortal – and that he, Harry, could possibly survive the war.

As Voldemort had yelled _Avada Kedavra, _Harry yelled _Expelliarmus, _and their wands had connected, much like they had in the graveyard when Harry was fourteen. Harry had struggled to push the beams of light to Voldemort and could feel himself failing. He was drained.… He still remembered the look on Voldemort's face when Snape had stepped out of the shadows to help. Voldemort had believed that Snape was his spy right until the end. Snape had taken his spot next to Harry, joined their hands and Voldemort's anguished scream of "_Kill Him!" _was drowned out as the connection broke. The combined magical power of both Harry and Snape had caused Voldemort's own killing curse to rebound, hit him squarely in the chest, and he had fallen to the ground with a thud, never to move again.

And so, the war had ended and celebrations had been put on hold. The Death Eaters that were left were rounded up and sent to Azkaban to await trial, and there were state funerals for those who had perished. The school year had ended early and all exams were cancelled. All loose ends had seemingly been tied up into a neat little bow by Dumbeldore and the Ministry; and Harry had been eager to face a school year, his last in fact, without any difficulties. He had been excited to finally be normal.  
And then the bloody Ministry had ruined it. Apparently due to "public demand", they had decided to create a day in his honour. Honestly, _Harry _fucking _Potter _day every year… it was ridiculous.

* * *

The sound of applause stunned Harry out of his reverie; apparently Kingsley had stopped talking. Large groups of people were coming towards him, slapping him on the back or shaking his hand, and Harry just smiled politely and meandered his way towards the temporary bar. He ordered another Firewhisky, ignoring the pointed stare from the barman (being Harry _fucking _Potter had its perks, he supposed. He hadn't needed to produce ID), and sighed with relief as a group of teenagers he recognised from Hogwarts formed in front of him. He would be shielded from view, and left to his deliciously mind-numbing drink.

"Harry!" an excited voice called out.

Harry groaned inwardly. He knew that perky voice anywhere.  
"Hey Gin," he replied. It wasn't that he _didn't _like her. It was more that he liked her in the way one would like an annoying younger sister… Ginny, of course, was oblivious to this.

"How are you feeling babe?" she asked, rubbing her hand up his arm. "_Harry Potter Day_ hey, that's pretty special."

"Yeah Gin, it's great," Harry sighed. He almost wished he _was_ attracted to her. It would make things easier, anyway. He grabbed his drink off of the bar and was tempted to scull it back, but resisted the urge. He nursed it instead, taking slow sips.

"Ooh, Firewhisky!" Ginny exclaimed. "Can I try some?"

_Honestly_, Harry sighed, _one wouldn't know that her brother died just a month ago._  
"No Gin," he said wearily. "You're not even sixteen yet."

She pouted, but it had no effect on him. He smiled tightly and looked for an escape.  
"Oh look Gin… I need to have a word with… Sirius. I'll talk to you later yeah?"

She just nodded, disappointed, and as Harry walked off he noticed her adjusting her tight black dress so that it showed off more of her cleavage. He exhaled loudly; unfortunately for her, her breasts did nothing for him. He pointedly ignored the traitorous voice in his head that questioned whether _any_ breasts did anything for him. That was not a line of thinking he wanted to explore…

* * *

He wandered through the crowd, head down, hoping to avoid the masses. He saw Sirius not far away, making a scene as usual; with a weary Remus Lupin trying to take Sirius' glass out of his hand.

"Sod off, Moony," Sirius slurred. "I'm not druuuunk. It's just my tenth drink, is all. Ooh, look Moony it's my grogeous… I mean gor-juss… godson. Haaaarrrry. Come heeere."

Harry grinned. Drunken Sirius was just what he needed. He swallowed the last of his Firewhisky, handed the glass to a passing waiter, and hurried over.

"Hey, Sirius," he smiled. "Nice to see you looking so happy."

"Nice to see you too, Mr Boy-Who-Lived-to-…I don't fucking know anymore." Sirius ran a hand through his short black hair. "Maybe I am a little drunk, Moons," he conceded, flashing a brilliant smile.

Remus smiled, resigned. Sirius started to laugh.

"What's so funny, Padfoot?" Remus asked.

"Youuuu. Trying to be…angry with meee. You can't be." Sirius giggled.

Harry couldn't help but feel he was intruding. The feeling intensified when Sirius threw his arms around Remus' neck and began to lick under his jaw.

"Mmm, Moony. You taste good…"

Remus flushed and pushed Sirius away from him. "He gets a bit friendly when he's drunk…" he tried to explain to a smiling Harry.

"Come take me to bedddd, Moons. I'm a bit wobbly. I'll make it worth your whiiileee." Sirius waggled his eyebrows, still looking ridiculously sexy in his drunken state.

"…Why would I do that?" Remus questioned, flushing harder.

"Because I'm sooooo good in bed!" Sirius replied. "You told me yesterday…"

"I haven't a clue what he's on about," Remus whispered to Harry, but the darkening blush on his face told Harry otherwise.

"And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before, and yesterday…" Sirius continued.

Harry patted Remus on the shoulder. "I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" he questioned, smirking.

Remus, who couldn't have looked more embarrassed, allowed himself to be dragged off by a skipping Sirius, whispering his apologies to anyone Sirius managed to bowl over on the way. At the door, Sirius turned around. "NIGHT HARRYKINS! I'm going to get LAAIIID!" he shouted, and they disappeared.

Harry couldn't keep the grin off if his face. Honestly, Remus must think them all dense if he thought that they hadn't cottoned on to his and Sirius' relationship. Sirius wasn't exactly known for being subtle, even when sober, and Harry had already had to cast a silencing charm around his _own_ bed a few nights ago, because it seemed that _they_ had forgotten one. He shook his head lightly. He seriously was happy for them – they were so good for each other. He hoped to find a man who completed him like that one day.

Wait, _what? _A _man? _Harry moaned in frustration. He must be a lot drunker than he thought if his mind was going down _that_ path again. _It's just a phase, it's just a phase, _he reminded himself. _All teenage boys go through it. All teenage boys imagine how good it would be to have a mouth full of hot, hard co-… NO! I will not think that. I like breasts. Boobs. Tits. Big ones…._ He gave an involuntary shudder. _No. No. No. This is NOT_ good.

He ran a hand through his already messed up hair, and straightened up his dress robes. His head, previously pounding from the alcohol, now had the added buzzing of his disjointed thoughts running through it. He quietly walked to the same door Sirius and Remus had just disappeared through – he needed to be alone to think. He stumbled down the hallway leading from the Ballroom and pulled his throbbing head into his hands. _I am not gay, I am not gay, I am not gay…_he repeated to himself, a silent mantra that, if he were honest, had been going on for two years now. _I'm not gay, I'm not gay, "_I'm fucking GAY!" he exclaimed, opening the door to a room at the end of the hall.

* * *

Severus Snape had been requested, no, _ordered_ to attend the celebration party by Albus Dumbledore. Here, he sneered. The war was over, and he was still taking orders. Fucking perfect. And it was at the house of his most hated enemy. Sodding Sirius Black.

Still, Severus had arrived and gone straight to the bar. He had downed two glasses of Firewhisky and smirked at the way some Hogwarts students looked at him; fear evident in their eyes. He had been suddenly feeling much better about being there. And then the blasted Minister had to go on and on about how amazingly heroic Harry Potter had been, and how there was going to be an annual _Harry Potter Day,_ and Severus had had enough. He left the Ballroom is a swirl of black cloak and stormed down the hallway into what he assumed was a sitting room. It was comfortable enough anyway. He went over to the liquor cabinet on the wall, a silent _Alohomora _easily unlocking it, and pulled out a bottle of Old Odgen's Finest. He conjured a glass and poured himself a generous amount before throwing himself in the nearest chair.

He sighed. It wasn't that Potter was so bad, really. He had spent most of the last eight months in company with the boy, and he had had to admit that he had been wrong about Potter. He wasn't the stuck up, arrogant bastard that he had always presumed. No, he was quite the opposite. He was recklessly brave, that was true, and irresponsible and seemingly unable to use his poor excuse for a brain; but he was also loyal, trustworthy, polite and kind. Severus snorted. Dumbledore had, he supposed, been right about the boy. He had been basing his judgement on Potter on his feelings for Potter Sr, and Black. It wasn't the _boy's_ fault that his family were such arrogant pricks.

He tossed back the glass and poured himself another. He loved the burn; he could feel it working its way into his body, warming him up from the inside. Harry, no, _Potter, _(he glared at his glass, _obviously_ it was the alcohol that made him call Potter by his given name), had matured into a fine young man. He snorted again. A fine young man; clearly he'd been spending too much time with Dumbledore. Soon he'd be twinkling at first years and offering the entire school population _lemon drops_. He had to curb this straight away – no more meetings with the meddling old man.

He lay back on the chair and shut his eyes. Thoughts of Potter plagued his mind, however. Potter's naïve smile as they set about finding Horcruxes, Potter's sweaty body as they practiced defensive moves and trained for hours, Potter's hand in his as they brought down Voldemort. Blasted Potter! Potter was a student. Severus shouldn't be thinking these thoughts about him! He was completely and utterly off limits, and oh so desirable. He'd filled out, over the course of their training too. Severus thought of his lightly muscled, tanned skin, beads of sweat dripping off his neck and running down to the small of his back… No! He had thought he'd put these thoughts to rest. But no, six months later and they were _still_ all he could think about. Potter. The bane of his existence, but now for a completely different reason.

He had hardly seen him since the Final Battle. Severus had been hiding away in his dungeons, throwing himself into his potion brewing and Potter, well, if _The Daily Prophet_ was to be believed, Potter had been thriving on all the attention and glory he had received. _Hmm… _The Daily Prophet _is hardly reliable, _he reminded himself.

He cracked an eye open, and slowly reached for his wand. He could hear stumbling footsteps down the hallway and he growled lowly. Who would _dare_ invade his peace?

"I'm fucking GAY!" was all he heard, and the door swung open to reveal a mass of messy black hair.

* * *

"Really, Mr Potter? Now _that_ is much more interesting than the Minister's speech!"

Harry looked up in horror; oh Merlin, of _all _people, why did it have to be Snape.

"Uh…" he mumbled, incoherently.

"What's that, Potter?" Snape smirked.

"What are you doing in here…sir?" _Play dumb, _Harry thought.

"Well," Snape began, his face impassive. "I was in here, just thinking. But then I found out something deliciously secret. You really shouldn't shout out your previously unknown sexual orientation in the hallways, Potter." The corners of his mouth lifted in a leer.

Harry groaned. _This_ was much worse than anything that had happened in the past. He had only just confessed his feelings to himself; Snape was _the_ last person Harry would want to know.

"Do you have a problem with gay people?" he asked angrily.

Snape arched an eyebrow in a typically _Snape_ manner. "Well that would be hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?"

Harry's mind ticked over. _Snape was gay? _The greasy, mean Potions Master liked men? Harry looked up at him. He looked… _different. _The lines on his face had receded almost completely, giving him a younger, fresher look. Harry supposed that with the death of Voldemort, Snape wasn't living in fear of his life anymore. His hair looked washed, and shiny, and just those subtle changes detracted from the hook of his nose. It looked as though Snape had started caring for himself again. He looked good. Harry gulped. He was not supposed to find his Professor attractive. His male Professor. The same teacher that had made his life hell for over five years. No, no, no, tonight was the _worst _night of his life. He was never drinking again.

He raised his eyes, and blushed when he noticed that Snape had been staring at him while he checked him out, a small smirk gracing his face. His eyes had softened a bit, and there was a glimmer of an undiscernible emotion in them.

"I'm a bit drunk…" Harry offered, in way of explanation.

"Oh really," Snape purred. He inched forward, slowly. Clearly, he was affected by the alcohol too. He slurred a tiny bit. "I may be a bit tipsy too."

Harry gulped loudly. The atmosphere between the two had changed. It was almost electrically charged, and Harry could hear his heart beating, it was so loud

"Do you like being the centre of attention, Potter? _Harry Potter Day_; a holiday just for you. Does it make you feel special?" Snape's voice was still low and soft; almost sensual. It sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"N- no," he stammered, stumbling backwards. "I tried to get them to recognise you… I tried to get a _Severus Snape Day _too." His back hit the wall. _Oh shit._

* * *

Severus chuckled. "_Severus Snape Day. _How absurd. _I _don't want the attention, Mr Potter. _I _want something else."

He had come so close to Harry that they almost touched and he rested hand on the wall above Harry's head. He was so out of control. _Fuck it, _he thought to himself. _I deserve some fun. I'm finally free._ His drunken mind focussed on the word _fuck_ and he felt the blood rush to his groin. Potter looked so devilishly innocent there, backed up against the wall. His hair dishevelled, his glasses askew, his cheeks and lips flushed from the alcohol… The pink tip of his tongue slipped out to lick his lips nervously, and Severus felt himself get harder. Merlin, how good would it be to just _take_ him…? Hard and rough, up against the wall of his godfather's house; with Dumbledore and the Minister and most of the Wizarding world only just outside the room? To hear Potter beg for him, scream his name… How _ironic_ would it be for the Gryffindor saviour to be _fucked_ by the Slytherin Death Eater?

He tried to compose himself. He attempted to bring forth his Occlumency shields; surely they would save him from his drunken mind? But he was too far gone… He pushed himself up against the younger man…

* * *

Harry saw the turmoil in Snape's eyes. He could feel the heat from his teacher's erection, and could sense his traitorous body getting aroused too. Oh gods, how he wanted Snape to just shove him against the wall and fuck him. He could _feel _the alcohol, spurring him on. Moments ago he had just come to terms with the fact that he was _gay_ and now he wanted his previously hated professor to fuck him into the wall?

Oh Merlin, who cared, if it meant Snape would be pressed up against him like this. Fuck, it felt good. Snape's hardness was pressed against his stomach, and knowing that _he_ had that effect on his stoic teacher was just more of a turn on. Snape brushed his lips over Harry's neck, making him moan quietly.

"Do you want this Pot-Harry?" he purred, almost silently.

Gods, yes. "Y-yes," Harry replied shakily.

Snape attached his mouth to his neck and nibbled. _Fuck_, that felt good. He pushed off his own robes and rubbed his length against Snape's thigh. Snape hissed in pleasure and pushed Harry harder against the wall. He bit down on the boy's neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and Harry cried out. Gods, he was so close to coming. And they hadn't even kissed yet.

* * *

Severus pulled back slightly, biting back a moan at the way Potter looked. God, he shouldn't be doing this. The boy wasn't even of age yet. But he couldn't stop. Potter was so _fucking _responsive, and hard and he just wanted to taste that hot little mouth.

He bent his head down and ghosted his lips over Potter's. Potter moaned against his lips and just like that, Severus was lost. He crushed his lips down over the boy's and eagerly thrust his tongue inside, swallowing any protests from him. It was all teeth and tongue and wet and drunk, and it was fucking _hot. _He tasted like Firewhisky and a hint of cherry.

Severus slowly trailed his hand down Potter's back, and cupped his arse. God, it was so tight. So perfect. He brought his hand to the front of Potter's jeans and played with the zipper. Circe, Potter was hard. He could feel the dampness of his pre-come through his jeans... He pulled the zipper down slowly, and froze.

He heard voices. Loud ones. Hundreds of them. His body urged him to continue, but somewhere in the alcohol-addled recesses of his mind, he told himself to _leave._ He pulled his hand out from Potter's pants, and pulled back. Potter whimpered in complaint.

"Potter… Harry.. People are coming."

"I don't care," Potter moaned. "I don't care who sees us, please, I'm so hard."

"Potter. I'll lose my job." Severus felt himself sobering up slightly. Merlin. Fuck. Shit. What had he been about to do? What had he _already _been doing? He was so fucked.

Potter pulled himself together slightly after that; although his bright green eyes were still glazed over with alcohol and lust. Severus straightened out his robes and made to leave the room. He stopped at the door; Potter looked so lost and so young. Severus sighed. He was a bit more sober still, and now he knew that he was royally fucked.

"Potter… Harry," he started. "We're both a bit… drunk… Just head to bed. It'll be better tomorrow… we'll talk. Okay?"

Potter just nodded, and Severus swept out of the room.

* * *

_A/N: Let me know what you think. It's my first slash and first kind of 'sexy' scene. Let me know if it's utter rubbish or if I should continue. thanks. :)  
_


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